Sin's Dagger
by JadeWerewolf
Summary: Curt's back in London, with a goodbye concert. Brian's in London at the same time. And so is Arthur. In which back will Sin's Dagger fall?
1. Info

Title: Sin's Dagger  
  
Summary: Curt back in London, with a goodbye concert. Brian's in London at the same time. And so is Arthur. In which back will Sin's Dagger fall?  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Velvet Goldmine, or in fact some of the quotes. Like "fear of getting old is getting old." and "I spent weeks defying my engine to the point of a break." and "Offhand I could name eighteen instances where a fine Merlot and me had it out." They belong to Twinstar. And the title, is taken from a Twinstar song, called Symmetry.  
  
A/N: AU, five years after the Lyceum stunt. Brian WILL NOT become Tommy, because Tommy sucks! And I'm not sure whether to put Curt with Brian or Arthur. I'm in huge favour of Brian. But I want you guys to decide for me! And somewhere in the middle of this fic, I'll be posting a challenge.  
  
Enjoy the story!  
  
And do review it! 


	2. 1 Just A Memory

Chapter One: Just A Memory  
  
Brian's fear of getting old was really getting old. He walked the crowded streets, alone and rather bored with what was going on around him. He remembered the spotlight and what it felt like to be center stage...and to be loved. That's what he missed most. Being loved. Some people say that broken hearts never mend, others say it does with time. Well, Brian knew that it had been five years, and he hadn't mended yet. Not being sure he ever would, Brian remained in mourning.  
  
Shadows now suited him well. So did his long trench coat, pulled up collar, sunglasses and hat. They hid the ship-wreck of a man that still lingered inside his body. No more glitter. No more glamour. That was a part of him that had died. And that was the part he sorely missed.  
  
But the world wasn't interested in glam rock anymore. His records were sold on clearance racks, as many other glam-rocker's. Had he really spent so long defying his engine to the point that it would break? Had he really not learned anything, in all those years? Fame was so inviting. It was like a rose, beautiful. But then, once he'd reached it's height, it showed it's true colours, pricked him with it's thorns. And he still wanted it. There was that dire need in him to be a star.   
  
The records that once gave Brian Slade comfort were now no more than a memory. Yet they lingered. Pent up in his small apartment, even Mandy or Jerry, anyone from the old gang was welcome. Just a "hello". Just someone who cares. Well, if he had learned anything, it was the thin line between silver and gray. And on he walked. Passed the Lyceum theatre, where all of his misery began and ended. No one even looked at him twice. Just another man... Brian wasn't sure what he would do if they recognized him.  
  
And he continued to walk.  
  
Then, something caught his eye. A banner, a poster... two words: Curt Wilde. Brian's heart beat faster as he looked at the flyer. It read: CURT WILDE! at the Lyceum Theatre, Goodbye concert! Tickets are £45 in advance or £60 at the door. November 12 & 13.  
  
"Goodbye concert?" Brian wondered aloud. "Glam's been dead for a while, my old friend." And he tore down the flyer and stuffed it in his pocket. He waked brusquely down the street now, mind and heart racing. No, he wouldn't go. Yes, he would, just for old time's sake...and another look. Goodbye concert indeed. But going would risk revealing himself to public. He couldn't go, not even for old time's sake. And still, there was a nagging... A feeling, a whim, if you will, to go. Perhaps.  
  
Finding his way home, Brian went inside and put the poster on the table. He stared at it. There was no picture, only words. Curt Wilde...here in London. Curt in London. Two days from now. Two performances. Brian flicked on his TV, to the entertainment channel. A reporter, young, female, probably worthy to be corrupted (he licked his lips) said, "...Wilde is retired from the music business. Jack Fairy, his long time friend refuses to comment on whether it is because a recent breakup. Wilde says..." The scene switched to Curt, who said, "I dunno. It's not really up for discussion." Then back to the reporter.  
  
Brian's mouth grew dry. He had to go. 


	3. 2 Some Wounds Never Heal

Chapter Two: Some Wounds Never Heal  
  
Oh, how he hated London. Hated it with a passion that he hadn't felt since... Well, nevermind. Curt's bleached blonde hair fell in his eyes as he flicked his cigarette. Mandy entered the room and said, "You can still cancel it." Her eyes were as regretful as his. "No," he took a drag, "I can't." She nodded. Mandy had been supporting him for at least two years. The had something in common: Brian Slade. Their previous relationship hadn't been a spectacular one. Brian's wife and Brian's lover. But in the end, he broke both their hearts.  
  
Curt would walk the streets of this wretched city, looking for some sign of Brian. No, not even Brian. The memory of Brian. Before he lied. Before he was Maxwell Demon. He hated the part of him that missed the glam-rocker. And he hated the part that still loved him. Things that were said that night and about a month after were so...so painful. So much more painful than anything Curt had ever known. The sting of those words still haunted him, everything he thought about them. 'It's been five years.' Curt thought. But some wounds never heal.  
  
"Darling?" Mandy said, "I'm going out for a drink. Anything I can get you?" Her accent was all over the place. She hadn't been in London in a long time. Curt shook his head and she smiled as she left.  
  
She had always said, "People look beautiful when the walk out the door." She had been right. But had he looked beautiful to Brian when he stormed out? Did it have the same affect?   
  
Offhand, Curt could probably name eighteen instances when a fine Merlot and he had it out, just over that night. But Brian had worn Curt down to weak tendencies and meek rebuttals to his tired drawn out monologues. No, Maxwell Demon had done that. Some part of Curt was sure though, that there was a little bit of Brian hidden under that space-age queen image. And when he was sure that the real Brian Slade had died, he left.  
  
And yet, maybe, after all these years, there was a glimmer of Brian left in whatever form he was in? Would Brian be at the concert?  
  
The concert. How Curt dreaded it. And couldn't wait for it. He was so torn. His heart rose with the thought that he just may see Brian again. And yet the it was a formidable thought as well. Would Brian be willing to see him? Oh, God, why had he come to London?!  
  
'I need a walk! Fresh air...' he thought and swiftly stood up. He walked out the door wondering if he was beautiful. Or was he as washed up as the tabloids said he was? 'You'll never change, Curt.'  
  
The air of London was crisp and cool. He drew his coat about him in the evening fog. Passed the Lyceum, where he would be performing in only a few days. Where Brian had faked his death. He turned down a dark alley and sensed foot steps behind him. He turned around when someone said, "Curt!" 


	4. 3 Make A Wish

Chapter Three: Make A Wish  
  
"Curt!" the man said again.  
  
"Yeah? Who the hell are you?" he demanded visciously.   
  
"I'm Arthur Stewart." he replied and walked into view. He was tall and thin. He stood in front of Curt, just smiling.  
  
"Yeah?" the blonde haired man asked. Arthur's smile faltered slightly but he managed to keep his composure.  
  
"You don't remember me..." he sighed.  
  
"Should I?"  
  
"Perhaps it was too much to hope." he turned to leave when Curt said,  
  
"No, what're you talking about?"  
  
Arthur turned, "You called it a freedom. A freedom you could allow yourself. Or not."  
  
"A freedom you could allow yourself. Or not." Curt said at the same time as he. "It was you."  
  
The other man smiled as Curt said again, "You." He ran his fingers through his hair.   
  
"You changed my life." Arthur said. Curt mumbled something under his breath and he continued, "I've...I've been looking for you. And when I heard you were in London...I...I had to come."  
  
"Look man, I dunno what that night was, or what you thought it was. But it wasn't that." Curt said, rather bewildered.  
  
"What was it then?" Arthur asked quietly. His posture made it seem as if he was preparing himself for another blow. Hands in his pockets, slouching and hair in his eyes.  
  
"Nothing." Curt replied, "Nothing." The blow had come.  
  
"All right." Arthur said, trying to be cheerful. He turned around and he noticed something in the sky. It was a shooting star. He took in a sharp breath.  
  
"Hey," Curt said from behind and Arthur whirled around, "Make a wish."  
  
"I got it the last time. Can't expect it to come true again."  
  
"You never know. Let's bump into each other some other time. Say around noon, Wednesday. Meet you here."  
  
"I'd love to." Arthur grinned. Curt nodded and said, "Right." He continued walking, not knowing what he just did or why. Only knowing that it didn't feel wrong. It felt almost right. 


End file.
